Tales of the Old Republic -- The Skyrunners
by The Phantom Belcher
Summary: A collection of short stories centered on the era of Star Wars: The Old Republic. A few minor supporting characters from the game appear, but none of the canon companions, and the tales do not follow the game storyline. Rated T for occasional violence, language, and themes.
1. Tale the First: Hiding in Plain Sight

**HIDING IN PLAIN SIGHT**

 **Ten Years Prior:**

 _This was_ supposed _to be a cease-fire_ , Lance Corporal Mitra'llis'eeronudo of the Imperial Army thought to herself as she took aim through her rifle's scope. Mitra'llis'eeronudo, better known to her comrades and commanders by her core name Allisee, was an athletic Chiss woman with dark blue skin and short black hair pulled back into a tail, dressed in black and gray body armor. At this time, she was laying prone on the ground, scanning for a target through her sniper rifle's electro-imaging scope. _Instead, we're on this Outer Rim mudball preparing for a fight. What are the Sith up to this time?_

She and her spotter, Private Tark Sterkal, a Human with dark skin and brown hair, were atop a grassy knoll on the planet Dantooine, looking out at a column of Republic AT-APC walkers.

"Easy there, Allie," Sterkal told her. "You don't have to be Sith to feel how tense you are," he explained after she looked over at him and glared. "You're more tense than a kath hound sniffing out a pack of females in heat."

"Thank you so very much for _that_ mental image," she told him coldly, turning back to her scope.

"Three kilometers," Sterkal mentioned. "Wind gauge reads ten krill-pesh-herf from the southwest."

"Let them get a little closer," she muttered. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. Adjusting her rifle slightly to the right, she squeezed the trigger twice.

Just shy of three kilometers away, the lead walker suddenly lurched to a halt; the first shot penetrated the walker's thin transparisteel driver's side viewport in its head. A split second later, the walker exploded, as the second of her shots hit the rocket munitions it was carrying.

It was to Sterkal's credit, as he watched the results through his viewfinder, that he did not hesitate for more than a few seconds.

"I..." He paused. "I'd heard you were the best sniper in the unit, but _this_..."

The sound of ion engines screaming through the air cut off what he was going to say next, or her reply. A trio of Republic Talon fighters buzzed overhead.

"Kriff me," Sterkal breathed.

Allisee felt _something_ pass through her. She rolled over onto her back pulling her rifle off the bipod and aiming it at the sky.

"They ..." Sterkal said, as Allie fired twice. The lead Talon exploded.

"... spotted ..."

Allie adjusted slightly, trusting in that feeling, and fired again. The second Talon exploded above her.

"... us."

Squeezing off a final pair of shots, Allie relaxed, as the third Talon exploded. Sterkal just gazed up at the sky as the three Talons were hit with a series of shots far too quick and far more accurate than he ever expected to witness, all three of them exploding from their engines getting hit before he could finish his sentence.

For her part, Allisee found herself breathing heavily as that sensation left her, a silly grin plastered on her face. "Like clearing out mynocks!" she exclaimed. Somehow, Sterkal managed not to leave his jaw laying on the ground as Imperial assault shuttles and Sith Interceptors roared overhead.

* * *

 **Now:**

Lt. Allisee Skyrunner strode down the corridor on the Sith Star Destroyer _Emperor's Glory_ in full dress uniform, not a crease on the black suit out of place. She paused outside a door, adjusted her cap slightly, and hit the chime on the side. The door slid open, revealing a typically austere Imperial office. An older Human man with a colonel's insignia and graying hair sat behind the desk. Allie saluted smartly. "Lieutenant Skyrunner reporting as ordered, sir."

"At ease, Lieutenant." She slipped into a parade rest stance. "I've been reading your record, Skyrunner. Interesting choice of name, for a Chiss." Allie forced herself to not react to the patronizing tone in his voice.

"It was my mother's ex-husband's," she explained. "It is my understanding that my full Chiss name is difficult for those who don't speak Cheunh. It was decided by my recruiter when I enlisted that I choose a name more suitable for Imperial tongues."

"Yes, it says that in your file." He set down the datapad he'd been reading. "In the past twelve years since you enlisted, you've received twenty seven commendations for valor, racked up an impressive number of kills, including – and I must say I've never seen this in _anyone's_ file before – three Republic Talon fighters in a matter of seconds while _on your back_ during the Dantooinian Feint just days prior to the Sacking of Coruscant, and removed numerous strategic targets across the contested regions from Balmorra to Taris at ranges most career snipers would hesitate to consider, without _once_ missing your target."

"Just doing my duty, sir."

"'Just doing my duty'," the colonel sneered. "Lieutenant, your actions during and after the Great War have spoken volumes. Therefore, I have to ask: can you feel the Force?"

Allisee barely hesitated. "No sir; it's all skill and timing. And, I must add, a good deal of luck."

"Our Sith masters would say there is no such thing as luck," he growled. "As it is, the Dark Council has ordered medical tests for everyone in the military, focusing on those with extraordinary service records such as yours, and to transfer those with high midichlorian counts to Korriban for Sith training." As nervous as she felt, Allie managed to maintain her calm and passive exterior, fixing her commanding officer with the emotionless calculating stare the Chiss were infamous for, hoping to unnerve him. "Therefore, I must ask you again: Are you Force-sensitive."

"No, sir," Allie replied automatically.

"You're obviously lying," the colonel sighed, leaning back in his chair. "The blood tests will show. Oh, and don't try using deathsticks to kill the parasites; we're testing for that as well. Dismissed."

Allie saluted, turned on her heel, and left the office. As soon as the door closed, she sighed and leaned up against the wall, ignoring the patrol of black-armored troopers marching past her. " _Sithspit!_ " she swore.

* * *

"And that's the issue, Jaek," Allie told her half-brother over the holo later that day, speaking in her native Cheunh. Jaek Skyrunner was a Human slightly taller than average with close-cut hair and an obvious cybernetic eyepiece replacing his right eye. "Unless I can hide my affinity with the Force, I'll be sent to Korriban to die being trained as a Sith. You've seen me with a lightsaber; I'd chop off my own head in my first fight."

"You could always leave," he told her, replying in the same language. "Transfer to the Expeditionary Defense Force."

"You've always been more of the ideal Chiss than me, little brother," she told him, smiling softly. "I never felt at home there; I don't think I could handle the Ascendancy military the way you did, even as young as you were."

"Then come join me on a hunt."

"It's tempting," she admitted, "and if I can't find a solution I may have to take you up on it, though that will certainly put a death mark on my head in Imperial space, hopefully insignificant enough to not warrant a bounty, I'd imagine."

"The only thing I could think of that would work," Jaek told her, "is to trade out someone else's blood. But of course, I'm not suggesting that."

"Of course not," Allie agreed. "That'd be unethical."

* * *

A warship in space isn't bound to the passage of day or night like on a planet. Instead, time is measured in 8-hour shifts: one for one's primary duties, a second split between secondary duties and personal time, and a third intended for sleeping. Warships on all sides tend to carry enough crew to enable all three shifts to operate at full capacity. Contrary to popular opinion, at no time is a warship quiet, even during the third shift.

Despite this, there are still areas that are not used during the ship's third shift and are only lightly guarded. The medical lab of the _Emperor's Glory_ was one of these places, guarded only by a pair of uniformed marines who lacked even basic combat armor. Allie noted this three Galactic Standard days later as she slid up next to the door between them, her stealth field generator belt concealing her presence as she pressed a hypo against both guards' necks at the same time, causing them to crumple to the floor unconscious.

Remembering she only had a few minutes before the guards asleep at their posts would be noticed, she entered the med-bay, switching her stealth field generator off in order to conserve its power cell after the door slid closed. Heading to a cabinet, she came upon a number pad on the lock. Pulling a small sensor from her belt, she held it over the keypad; a holographic display lifted the numbers used, gauging the sequence by the residual heat. Smiling, she pressed the sequence with a gloved hand.

"Pure pazaak," she whispered in Cheunh as the cabinet door slid open, revealing the blood samples that had been taken earlier during the ship's second shift. Quickly scanning the names on the vials, she found hers in the back. Grumbling, she reached in and pulled it out, replacing it with an identical vial, pocketing the original.

* * *

 _The tech drawing her blood frowned. "I could have sworn I had a label for this vial," he said. "It'll just be a moment to print out a new one." Allie smiled, reassuring him that she was in no rush, as she slid the barcoded label she'd palmed into her slacks._

* * *

Allie's attention was drawn to a commotion outside. _Sithspawn,_ she thought, _someone came by early._ Switching on her stealth field generator, she quickly closed the cabinet door and waited just inside the door as she prepared a grenade. The door slid open, and a pair of soldiers in standard shocktrooper armor entered, blaster rifles drawn.

Despite appearances, the visor on an Imperial shocktrooper's helmet was never meant to be functional. Instead, the inside of the helmet is equipped with a holographic HUD, designed to respond to the user's eye movement. Sensors on the helmet provided the soldier with a complete view of their surroundings; far more than any ordinary helmet could provide. As Allie knew only too well, the sensors and other electronics in the helmet were designed and built by the lowest bidders contracted through the Sphere of Logistics. This led to a few known glitches: visual artifacts, malfunctioning targeting systems, etc. But most importantly, it meant that the electronics were not shielded, making them as vulnerable to ion weaponry as any droid.

And Allisee, a veteran of the Great Galactic War, knew their weakness, and had prepared for it. (It was also, she later reflected, why she never wore her helmet in the field.)

A pair of small ion charges flew through the air, attaching to the troopers' helmets. A second later, the charges went off, blinding the soldiers as their helmets' electronics suddenly stopped working. Allie used that time to slip between them and out the door. She made it back to her quarters with time to spare, which she used to toss the stolen blood sample down the trash chute.

* * *

Three days later, Allie was once again in her commander's office, standing at attention as he fumed and paced around her.

"I don't know how you managed it, Skyrunner!" He practically spit in her face; she forced herself to maintain her emotionally detached Chiss demeanor. "Your results came back _negative!_ Clearly, it's a false negative, but you're in the clear for now. Furthermore, thanks to your record you've qualified for the rank of Lieutenant First Class." He barely restrained his disgust at this statement. "I'm assigning you to command of Gamma Company's Shadow Squad, effective immediately. Dismissed."

"Thank you, sir." She saluted sharply, turned on her heel, and left the office as the commander slumped back into his chair.

"She _is_ Force-Sensitive, Commander," a deep and menacing voice stated, as a towering Sith Pureblood appeared in a corner, his lower face obscured by a breather mask. "I could feel it, though I don't think she felt me. Her talents are untrained, but useful."

"Then take her to Korriban, Lord Malgus," the commander growled, "and get her alien filth out of my hair."

"No, commander," the Sith told him, "she is far more useful with her talents and a rifle than she ever would be with a lightsaber. I have foreseen she has a role to play in the future, though its nature eludes me, and it is with a blaster, not a lightsaber." Malgus looked over at the door. "She and her siblings are much alike, but very different."

"Her siblings? The agent, or her step-brother the bounty hunter?"

Malgus seemed amused, almost smiling behind his breather. "No, neither of those."

"Her file said nothing about other sibli–"

"Do not concern yourself with it, commander," Darth Malgus told him. "It is a Sith matter."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** As much as I despise the idea put forth in _The Phantom Menace_ that the microscopic midichlorians are responsible for the Force, I found they serve a purpose in giving physical evidence of who is Force-sensitive. Therefore, I decided to go with the idea put forth in the novel _Darth Plagueis_ that the midichlorians are attracted to Force sensitive individuals (with an added benefit of slightly retarding the aging process in those strong in the Force).


	2. Tale the Second: A Jedi's Fall

**A JEDI'S FALL  
**

Pegali Skyrunner, Knight of the Republic, pulled her shoulder-length reddish-brown hair back into a tail, fixing it with a plain rubber band before answering her ship's incoming holocomm. The young Miraluka concentrated slightly, tracing the call through the Force, getting an image of the caller, and smiled as her half-brother's holo-image resolved itself.

"Mikk!" she greeted him with a warm smile which soon turned into a concerned look as she sensed his emotions. "What's wrong?"

"Hi, sis." Mikk'el Skyrunner's image indicated that he was a large man, contrasting with Peg's petite frame and slender figure. "I just finished checking in with the Council about our mission. They've given the go-ahead to move onto Nar Shaddaa."

"You're avoiding the issue."

"Always so serious," he sighed. There was an uncomfortable silence as he collected himself. "Grand Master Shan found out about me and Ranna." Peg considered this; Ranna Tao'Ven was the young new Matriarch of the Twi'lek Pilgrims who had settled on Tython in defiance of the Republic, inheriting her position from her late mother. Ranna and Mikk had become close not long afterwards. Both siblings knew all too well Grand Master Satele Shan's views on Jedi and romantic relationships, views neither sibling shared.

"That can't have ended well."

"Always one for understatement. Master Shan gave me a choice."

"Ranna or the Jedi," Peg finished. Mikk nodded. "When do you have to decide?"

"I already have. Master Shan summoned us to the Council chamber, and made me decide right there, then dismissed Ranna immediately after."

"Oh. ... OH!"

"Yes, you see my problem." Mikk sighed again. "The terms were no further contact with Ranna. Ever. I can't even say goodbye to her."

Peg stared at her brother's image, following the connection through the Force to try and comfort him that way. What she felt, though, was a shield of grief and sadness blocking her attempts to connect.

"Mikk, promise me you'll find a way to tell her. You two, you're made for each other. You were _happy_ , happier than you've been since dad's third wife left for the Outer Rim and took Allie and Jaek with her. Why'd you choose the Jedi over Ranna?"

"Peg, the work we do as Jedi is more important than our own happiness. I can't believe you of all Jedi would be petty about that." Mikk's tone on the surface appeared to be filled with disappointment at his sister, but through the Force Pegali could sense the pain he was hiding and forcing down.

"Mikk, I'm sorry." She sent a wave of comfort to him. "Don't lose hope that you'll be able to at least explain it to her one day."

Mikk grimaced, and abruptly closed the connection. A minute later, the holocomm beeped again, but Pegali ignored it as she could sense it came from Grand Master Shan. She was already headed for the ship's bridge to lay in a course to the smuggler's moon.

* * *

Several galactic standard days later found Mikk and Pegali deep in the Refugee Sector of Nar Shaddaa, several levels below street level. This was a dark level, with lights rarely in working order. Fortunately, Peg thought to herself, she was already blind, relying on the Force rather than her non-existent eyes. This occasionally meant she'd stumble over a piece of trash, but that wasn't uncommon even for those with eyes in this light, as Mikk occasionally proved himself.

The Refugee Sector, she reflected, was populated by the descendants of those who had fled to the moon during the Mandalorian and Jedi Civil Wars nearly three centuries before, having had nowhere else to go. The perfect place for the Empire to hide one of their clandestine operations, one she and Mikk had been tasked to find.

Ever since they'd met up at the spaceport the day before, Peg thought that Mikk was morose. He moved sluggishly, as if he didn't care what happened. She had actually insisted he stay at their lodging on the Promenade, but he would have none of it, insisting they face the danger together.

She sensed the attack half a second before it happened. In an instant, her lightsabers flashed to life in her hands, twin beams of blue and green moving to intercept the durasteel double-vibrosword in her attacker's hand. She expected the lightsaber blades to slice through the sword, but the sword's blade held her offhand saber steady. For not the first time, Peg was thankful her first teacher in the Jedi ways was a Trandoshan; her slender frame was stronger than it looked.

 _Sithspawn!_ she thought, as the man holding the vibro-staff came into view. While she couldn't see the scars of his face, she could see the dark aura surrounding him.

"Well now, little Jedi," her opponent chastised her, "such thoughts. I thought the Jedi taught you better. I am no sithspawned monster, though I thank you for the complement. Lord Er'qel, at your service."

The fight was short and brutal. Despite Pegali's skill, the Sith Lord's skill and power was greater. His Sith war blade buried itself in Mikk's heart, killing him well before the larger Jedi could even ignite his own lightsaber, then sliced upwards past her defenses, slicing her from above her right eye socket to her lip, tearing her eye-mask to shreds in the process. Peg tasted her own blood, as a surge of anger flashed through her.

It was as if the floodgates had been opened. All the pent-up anger and hate, her frustrations and resentment, her grief at Mikk's death – all of it came out just then. Rather than force it down or letting it go like she was trained to, however, Pegali latched onto it. She knew it was forbidden, that if she let it she'd be starting down a dark path, but at that moment she didn't care. She would _avenge_ her fallen brother!

Peg made a rage-fueled leap, spinning in mid-air, twin lightsabers flashing with unbidden speed. Her main saber knocked the Sith sword away, while the left slashed through the Sith Lord's waist. Both sabers then proceeded to slice at the Sith's arms, then formed an X pattern across his chest, before finally beheading him.

Exhausted, Pegali studied her handiwork before collapsing, a small, cold smile playing on her lips.

* * *

Pegali staggered into the Slippery Slopes cantina on the Nar Shaddaa Promenade, taking a seat at the bar. A kolto patch covered her eye socket and her cheek, but hints of the cut were still visible.

"Corellian brandy," the told the bartender droid, dropping a few Hutt credits on the counter. Taking the drink, she downed it in one shot. "Reload."

"What a ragged little girl. Did someone have a bad day?" a voice beside her commented, the voice slightly imperious, slightly scorning.

"You don't know the half of it," Peg replied coldly. She turned her head as if to look at the newcomer, and wasn't surprised at all by the dark aura surrounding her.

"What's your name, girl?" the newcomer asked.

"Peg. You?"

There was a brief silence before the aura answered. "I am Sith. That will do, for now." Peg concentrated, forming an image of her drinking companion in her mind. A Twi'lek, pale yellow skin, felin spot markings on the lekku, and a marking around her right eye. No, not just any marking...

"Nice brand. An Imperial slave brand?"

"You noticed. Good to see your anger doesn't keep you from noticing the details. It certainly doesn't stop me, Jedi." The Twi'lek spoke with a razor sharp edge to her voice.

"I'm not angry," Peg started to say, but all that came out was, "I'm not..." She stopped, thinking. "Is it that obvious?"

"More than that," the Twi'lek told her. "It's pouring off you. Rare to see a Jedi nursing their anger. Well worth the trouble."

"How many Jedi have you known that you haven't killed, Sith?"

"Not all Sith are about killing Jedi. Far better, sometimes, to find the ones like yourself." She smiled, slowly.

 _Like myself,_ Peg thought. She recalled the last few days: the sheer arrogance of the Grand Master, once she finally answered that call; her brother's sadness; the fear for her own life in the Refugee Sector; the exhilaration as she mutilated her attacker.

"What makes you think I'd be interested?"

"Jedi...fall hard. Deliciously so." The Sith spoke casually. "I can see it in you. You've got a hunger, now. The light's abandoned you, and the darkness calls out. You're just afraid. Curious, needing, but afraid."

"I'm not afraid," Peg replied defiantly.

"Yes, you're too afraid to admit you're afraid. That's what almost killed you."

"How...?"

"I was there, watching. I've been tracking you since you landed. Who do you think carried you to the kolto tank?"

Peg felt the kolto patch for a moment, then moved her head as if looking at the Sith. Her brow furrowed in thought.

"What do you want?"

"I can get you a holocron. The holocron of Darth Angral. I'm debating letting you borrow it, but even so..."

Something clicked inside Peg. Sith holocrons were forbidden to be activated by all but the strongest Jedi, and this Sith was offering her a chance to learn the forbidden. Sith teachings would help her avenge her brother against his _true_ killers: the Jedi Council.

The Twi'lek tilted her head to study the young Jedi. "You know what the Jedi are. Despite their," she paused, pondering the right word, "front of righteousness, of goodness, they can scheme and lie and deceive with the best of them. And they get away with it, because they and so many others think they do it for the 'greater good'." Scorn filled her voice. "I wouldn't put it past them to put such a tempting fall before me to gain information."

Peg felt her anger flare once more. "I know _exactly_ what those on the Council are like. Arrogant, self-righteous..." She took a breath, trying to get herself under control. "They killed my brother's spirit long before his physical death. If they're setting you up, they set _me_ up, too. _That_ ... I cannot forgive."

"Revan's blood, the child can see the obvious," the Sith snorted. "No pun intended. Go to Korriban. If you have second thoughts, you want more time, to hell with it. The Sith do not suffer weakness. You will die there, or your soul will be burned through its sacred ground and you will _live._ " She fixed Peg with a cold stare. "If you survive your first day," she emphasized the word 'survive' with a sneer, "the holocron is yours – for a time. If you don't return it, I'll boil your blood with a thought."

It took all of two seconds consideration for Peg to come to a decision.

"Deal."

* * *

A few days later, Pegali Skyrunner stepped off the shuttle and into the hot Korriban sun. The heat of the sand-blasted world seeped into her, feeding her newfound intensity. Under the surface of the planet, she could feel the dormant dark power of the planet waiting to be claimed.

"I think I'll enjoy this," she told herself aloud. With that, she shouldered her Sith training saber and went forward to face her new life, to become Sith . . . or die.

Pegali swore right then that she _would not_ die. The power of the Dark Side would be hers, and the Jedi would rue the day they let – nay, _goaded_ one of their best and brightest into falling.

A red-skinned Pureblood Sith, also a new acolyte, muscled past her. Sticking out her foot, Peg sent him sprawling on the hard red rock. She chuckled coldly as she continued on, ignoring her rival's heated stare.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** If you were to guess that the Red Sith at the end was Ffon Althe, you'd probably be right. :) To be fair, this tale was at least partially written in collaboration with an online friend, whose own Sith Sorcerer, Quaya, interacted with my first Jedi Sentinel before I rerolled the Sentinel as a Sith Sorcerer.


	3. Tale the Third: Glory, Honor, and Duty

**GLORY, HONOR, AND ALLEGIANCE**

The _Shereshoy_ -class light corvette _Canderous Ordo_ drifted through interstellar space, seemingly out of place against a backdrop of stars and distant nebulae.

Inside, sitting at her desk in her quarters, Tika Skyrunner brushed a lock of her long blond hair out of her eyes as she paged through the long list of job offers she and her crew had received. She automatically deleted the ones that came addressed from officials of both the Republic and the Empire, and then started looking through other offers, of which there were about thirty at this time. Three of the offers, she found, were from various Hutts, and those, too, ended up being deleted.

Halfway through reading the third of the remaining offers, her comlink chimed.

"Tika here."

"Captain," her second replied, "we're getting a call over the holo. It's coming in on a Mando'ade frequency."

"Be there shortly." Standing up, she strode out into the central lounge. Most of her multi-species crew was there, engaged in the usual off-duty distractions, mainly pazaak, sabacc, and dejarik, but four playing a game of _cu'bikad_ , if they weren't busy working on their weapons. She walked up to the central holocomm in the lounge and switched it on. Heads turned to look, as a hologram of a male figure in Mandalorian warrior armor flickered to life.

" _Su'cuy gar_ , Tika," the figure stated in greeting. It was a voice Tika knew well from childhood.

" _Su'cuy gar_ , Dash," she replied, smiling at her holovisitor while switching to Mando'a. "It's been a long time."

"That it has," Dash agreed. "Time is short, so I'll be brief. Mandalore has put out a call to Clan leaders for a council."

Tika frowned. "I understand." _The call of Mandalore is not ignored by Mandalorians,_ _after all_ , she reminded herself. "Let me know how it turns out, and whether we fight for the Sith."

"I'm not sure you do." Dash commented. "Your name came up on the list of Clan leaders. Clan Skyrunner." Her crew exchanged looks and started murmuring amongst themselves.

Tika frowned in thought. "I never established my own clan, nor claimed to. My crew are not Mando'ade, and I'm still of Clan Ordo." She paused. "But I could not call myself Mando'ade if I do not answer the call."

" _Aliit ori'shya tal'din_ ," he commented, smiling. Tika couldn't help but return the smile. "The council is meeting on Keldabe on _Manda'yaim_."

"I'll be there." she told him. " _Ret'urcye mhi_." He repeated this last phrase, then his image de-rezzed.

Tika turned to her crew, all of whom were looking at her expectantly.

"Captain," one said, standing up, also speaking in Mando'a. "I for one would be proud to say I am of Clan Skyrunner." This was followed by hearty cheers by the rest of the crew.

Tika smiled at this support from her crew. "Set course for Mandalore!" she called out.

* * *

Mandalore, which from space appeared to be a typical habitable planet with large oceans and lots of untamed woodlands, tropical jungles, inhospitable deserts, and sprawling plains, was the homeworld of the Mandalorian culture. Located in the Outer Rim, not far off the Hydian Way, the planet was fairly sparse, with very few cities, but very few planets of its caliber could claim to have brought entire systems to their knees.

Tika reflected on all this as she strode through the city of Keldabe. Built atop a granite island mesa in the middle of a river, Keldabe was not so much a planned city as it was one that had grown organically from its ancient fortress origins, with buildings of wood, ferrocrete, durasteel, and stone rising almost randomly and on top of each other. Unlike other Mandalorian warriors, notable by their distinctive T-visor helmets, similar to the red-and-black one she herself currently wore, Tika navigated the city without pause and without needing to stop for directions.

She crossed a large open-air market, in which vendors hawked everything from fresh fruits to building supplies to blasters, before entering a long tapcafe. Inside were several tables, numerous booths, and a massive holodisplay on a far wall. Mandalorians and others, in armor and out, relaxed, drinking all sorts of liquids. One Trandoshan Mandalorian was engaged in an arm wrestling match with a Wookiee, and a pair of Mandalorian women tossed knives at a dartboard as credits exchanged hands.

" _Tihaar shig_ ," she ordered from a passing server droid, nestling into a seat near where a bunch of older Mandalorians in worn armor were gathering. Sighing, she removed her helmet, sipping the mug of alcoholic tisane the droid brought her.

Silence fell as a shadow loomed in the doorway. A tall Mandalorian with a red cloak and kama worn over golden armor, wearing a helmet reminiscent of the Neo-Crusaders three centuries before, entered, followed closely by a few other Mandalorians. A young human girl, no more than eight summers, ran up to him holding out a steaming mug of _shig_ with a huge smile on her face.

" _Vor'e_!" Mandalore the Vindicated told the girl, who bowed and scampered back to her family. Mandalore removed his helmet, moving through the crowd to address the assembled Mandalorians.

"My people!" he began. "It is becoming clear that the Cold War between the Sith Empire and the Galactic Republic has begun to grow hot again. Quite clearly, we Mandalorians will continue to chase glory, especially as neither side no longer wishes to hide behind a sheet of flimsi, but I know that some of you have doubts as to whether we should continue to serve the Sith, as my predecessor as Mandalore called us to. I would now hear your thoughts."

A Mandalorian warrior who sat near Tika stood up, an older woman with graying red hair. "Shae Vizla." Heads turned; Vizla had participated in the Sacking of Coruscant ten years prior. She proceeded to give a speech which basically denounced war as a lot of waiting interspersed with lots of mindless killing, with no honor, before sitting down.

Speeches were made, and it seemed to Tika that many of the speeches were in support of the Mandalorians joining the war on the side of the Sith.

Frustrated, she stood up, her helmet under her arm. "Tika Skyrunner," she identified herself. "To fight in a war is one thing, Mandalore," she began, "but historically the Sith have not had _Mando'ade_ interests at heart; often quite the opposite." There was a murmuring of agreement from among the other Mandalorians assembled, and also a murmuring of disdain, the latter from those who had been pushing for joining the war. "Should we forget how the Mandalorians suffered under the Sith in the past, particularly Sith Lords Exar Kun, Ullic Qel-Droma, and Darths Revan and Malak? On top of that, just last year the Empire eliminated Clan Spar to the last child on trumped up charges of treason. We cannot just forget these actions, or pretend they don't exist!"

"Do you suggest we change allegiance, fight for the Republic?" a call came out.

" _Nu draar_!" she scoffed. There was a general murmuring of agreement to that. "They talk of freedom, but we would lose what makes us Mando'ade if we joined them."

"And what do you suggest?" Mandalore asked her.

"Neutrality. I would say that Mando'ade who wish to fight in the war may choose to do so, while those who have grievances against the Sith are _not_ compelled to fight for them. I for one am convinced the Mando'ade will fall from the path of honor if we continue to serve the Empire." There was a general clamor as she sat down.

"A very compelling speech," Shae Vizla told her, leaning over to speak across the table. "I'm not familiar with Clan Skyrunner though."

"It's rather informal," Tika replied. "I started teaching my crew Mando'a, and instilling in them the code we live by, staying off the scanners by using my biological father's name, and Clan Ordo decides we're a new Clan."

"There are worse ways to gain notoriety," Shae chuckled.

Further speeches were made, though to the average Mandalorian it looked as though the general thrust had changed.

Eventually, Mandalore raised his hands, motioning for silence.

"I have heard your opinions and concerns. Let the word go forth: _Mando'ade_ as a whole fight for _Manda'yaim_ before all others!" There was a general cheer of approval to this. "I will continue to fight the Sith's wars for them, but those who wish to follow other paths to glory may do so without reprisal." He paused, waiting for the clamor that rose up in support of this to die down, then raised his _shig_ in a toast. " _Oya manda_!"

" _OYA_ _MANDA_!" came the echo as all present raised their mugs.

* * *

Several hours later, Tika strode up the ramp into the _Canderous Ordo_. One of her crew was there to greet her.

"How'd it go, Captain?"

"We're informally Mandalorians," she told him. "Best of all, we don't have to fight for my mother's killers."

"So where to?"

Her mind thought over the various job offers she'd glanced at, then mentally dismissed all of them. "Set course for Yavin. I'm of a mind to hunt some game."

" _Oya_!"

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Okay, this is easily my shortest one yet. To be fair, I'm not entirely satisfied with it, as it seems to be lacking that crucial something.

Tika is my Republic Trooper/Commando in-game, who I RP as being a Mando mercenary working for third parties.


End file.
